Living In Fear
by Bryher
Summary: Lying there, she wondered why, four years after the defeat of Voldemort, she was still living in fear. Oneshot.


Oneshot fic, I don't plan on updating at all. I was feeling rather angsty. Hermione and the boys after the War.

Enjoy!

Live in Fear

"_Run, Hermione!" Ron screamed, throwing a hex at a Death Eater. Hermione couldn't run, though her legs told her to. Oh, they told her to. Pain had her rooted to the spot, a flaring, white heat that seared her blood and blinded her eyes. The same pain she'd been feeling for weeks on end. The pain she'd felt since her kidnapping. 'No…' She whimpered in her head. 'Please, not again.' Harry battled bravely alongside Ron, not saying anything at all, concentrating. Lucius Malfoy loomed before her, evil, intimidating. Why would she never escape. A sob tore itself from her throat as Ron fell, hit with some hex. Harry, panicked, looked at Hermione in the seconds before he himself went under with a series of hexes... _

"HARRY! RON!" Hermione screamed, bolting upright in her bed. "N-n-nooo…." Sobbing hopelessly, she drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, holding in all the pain. The door to her room flew open, but such was the night time routine now, that Hermione didn't even look up. Harry and Ron, both alive and totally healthy, threw themselves on her, wrapping their arms around her, hushing her and soothing the distraught girl.

"Wh-hy w-w-won't it _stop_!" Hermione screamed into Harry's chest, tears streaming, gut aching with the force of her sobs. "I don't know, I don't know." Harry whispered, rocking frantically with her, looking over her bowed head to Ron, who was pale and shaking. "Get your Mum." He mouthed, adjusting to let Ron slide his arms from around Hermione and flee the room, calling his mother at the top of his lungs. Hermione whimpered, quiet now, shaking, muttering. Harry felt tears welling in his own eyes, tears of frustration and anger, tears of love for his friend. "…C_an't…won't…" _Hermione shuddered, holding onto Harry's tee-shirt with bloody hands. She'd clenched her hands so hard her nails had broken the skin.

"Won't what?" Asked Harry, drawing away slightly, tilting her chin up towards his face. "_Can't l-let them hurt me… not a-a-again…_please_…no…"_ She hiccoughed, almost whispering so quietly Harry hadn't heard. Gathering her into his lap, he rested his chin on the top of her head, wrapping his arms more firmly around her emaciated form. "I'll _never_ let them near you again, Hermione. I promise." Harry vowed, voice eerily calm, seething with anger. Mrs. Weasley all but flew into the room, hair in a wild bun and wearing a flowery nightgown. Ron followed, still pale. Molly Weasley clucked in sympathy as Hermione's tearstained face peeked from under Harry's arms and chin. "More nightmares, Sweetheart?" Hermione nodded, regaining her senses somewhat, snuggling deeper in Harry's hold. "Ron.." She whispered, pleading with her eyes. The red haired young man all but ran to the bed, stroking her face gently with Quidditch rough hands. "We're here, Hermione." Mrs. Weasley left, seeing that there would be no need for the healers tonight.

Closing the door behind her, she wiped a hand tiredly over her eyes. Hermione was a changed girl. Tortured for weeks in Lucius Malfoy's Manor, she had lost herself, becoming a haunted, emaciated shadow of Hermione; whose eyes glazed over now and then; whose screams could be heard in the night. Hermione still had her brains and habits, but was no longer a young woman who freely smiled, gave her opinion. She was a ghost. Molly could only hope her son and Harry would be able to heal her over time.

In Hermione's room, the Golden Trio, the Shattered Friends, lay together on the single bed, Hermione's tear streaked face illuminated in the moonlight. She lay in the arms of Ron and Harry, who lay on either side of her, all their limbs entangled; all their heads together. Silent sobs occasionally wracked her. Ron's heart broke for her. Harry's had broken on the first night she had screamed in terror, thrashing from her dreams in panicked wails, terror in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry.." Hermione whispered, looking at the ceiling, unseeing. "I'm sorry I'm so weak, I'm sorry I got caught, I'm sorry I-mmff.." Ron had clamped a hand over her mouth. "Don't. 'Mione. Don't be sorry for what the bastard did." Harry took Ron's hand from her mouth, whispering, "We should go to sleep." Both boys kissed Hermione's wet cheek and settled, wrapping arms around her.

Their breathing slowed, sleep induced, but Hermione lay awake, wondering why, after so long, she still had those dreams. Why, four years after Voldemort's defeat, she still lived in fear.

Reviews welcome.


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